


a big black sky over my town

by LadyMerlin



Series: RoyEd Month 2020 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Day 11, Idiots in Love, Intervention, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, RoyEd Month 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: “Let’s recap,” Mustang says, like they’re already half-way through a conversation. “Or maybe, let me give you an executive summary.” Ed rolls his eyes; once a bullshitter, always a bullshitter. “I’d lose a limb, two limbs before I could choose to give you up,” Mustang says, dropping a bombshell like he doesn’t know it’ll decimate Ed.Ed, who knows exactly the value of a limb, or two.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: RoyEd Month 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716067
Comments: 37
Kudos: 392
Collections: RoyEd month





	a big black sky over my town

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for Day 11 of RoyEd Month 2020: Overlook. 
> 
> I officially do not like the title, but my brain is not cooperating to come up with a better one, so.  
> Edit: changed the title. Still hate it but less than before. Sorry :/  
> Edit 2.0: I'M SCREAMING I REALISED I HAVE ANOTHER ROYED FIC WITH THE EXACT SAME TITLE. changed it again. fml. now it comes from the song 'dancing on my own' by robyn, because. well at least i haven't used it before...

“It’s like he looks at me, but he doesn’t _see_ me,” Ed says lowly, not looking up from his textbook because he doesn’t want to see the expression on his brother’s face. “No, don’t look at me like that Al, I’m not being poetic or metaphorical, you can keep your psychology mumbo-jumbo to yourself. This has nothing to do with my self-esteem or whatever other notion you’ve got buzzing around in your head, this week.”

“Brother,” Al says exasperatedly, baited in spite of himself, “self-esteem is not a made up word, no matter what you say about it. For someone who’s done as many incredible things as you have at your age, yours is painfully, uh, low.” 

Al’s face - his perfect, gorgeous, _human_ face - twists in an ‘oh shit’ expression, because using words like that around Ed is like asking for a fight. He’s not even surprised when Ed jumps to his feet. “Watch whom you’re calling too small to be noticed,” he snarls, throwing his hands up in the air before stalking away. It’s a good thing it’s one in the morning, and most of the other students in the library are too accustomed to Ed’s behaviour to do anything more than grumble and curse under their breaths.

The librarian standing at the end of the row looks like she’s about to have an aneurysm when Ed barges past her. Al thinks uncharitably that if she doesn’t get used to Edward Elric, she’ll never cut it as a librarian in Central U. He sighs, closes his book, and follows. 

Maybe it’s time for drastic measures. 

-

It’s pretty telling that Ed doesn’t question it when Al wakes him up in the middle of the night and tells him that Mustang needs to see him. 

He’s not even thinking about his stupid feelings, he’s just scared, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. It’s been years since Mustang has asked for him like this, and it’s serious, if the urgency in Al’s voice is anything to go by. 

He doesn’t suspect anything when Al tells him that Mustang is holding an emergency meeting at Riza’s place. The only thing that throws him as he’s trying to get dressed, is that when he asks Al to stay behind, braced for a fight, Al just nods in acceptance. 

Al _never_ agrees to stay behind. That should really have given it away, but in Ed’s defense, it’s late at night and panic is pretty good at scrambling his brains. He’s not the same kid he’d once been, with nerves of steel. He’s older now, with a lot more to lose. 

He doesn’t hesitate when he sees Havoc outside their front door, throwing himself into the back seat of the car. It’s only to be expected; Team Mustang runs like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knows that Ed can’t drive, legally, because of his automail. Picking him up makes sense, though he can’t help but worry what it means that they’ve called the entire team for the meeting.

Riza meets him outside her building and instead of racing the three flights of stairs up to her apartment, she leads him down to the basement, coolly explaining that the walls of her house are thin and Mustang didn’t think they should be overheard, so they’re hosting their emergency meeting in a basement that’d been converted to a communal rec room, empty at this time of night. 

The first glimmer of suspicion only comes when Riza opens the door and gestures for Ed to go in before her. A simple rule in Team Mustang is that Riza always goes first, in case of a firefight, and Ed has never seen her do anything different, even in their civilian life. She’s one of the most amazing people he knows, and he trusts her to the moon and back, which is the only reason he follows her directions and walks into the basement room with her at his back. 

When he sees Mustang sitting in the middle of the room, tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth, Ed can feel his eyes widen in shock as he turns back to Riza, only to see a closing door, amused eyes, and a final reminder: “If you destroy my basement or my building, I’ll be very upset.” 

He doesn’t bother checking the door; he heard it lock with a final sounding thud; a deadbolt. 

Ed’s brain is racing, his thoughts a cacophony as he paces over to where Mustang is sitting, slicing neatly through the ropes binding him. He’s started carrying a knife in his shoe to compensate for the loss of his automail arm, though he knows a lot of people who would rather characterise it as the return of his real arm. The automail had had its advantages, especially in times like this. 

It looks like Mustang had been tied to his office chair and carried here together with it, which makes for a hilarious - if baffling - image. 

There’s a moment when they both reach for the cloth gag tied at the back of Mustang’s head, and their fingers brush together before Ed yanks his hand back, letting Mustang remove it himself. 

“Mutiny,” is the first word Mustang growls when he can speak again, and Ed can’t disguise the quick inhale of breath, so sharp that it actually hurts. 

Mustang turns to him sharply, and then sighs and slumps slightly when he sees the look on Ed’s face. “No, not really, not for real. I don’t think so, anyway.” 

Ed tries to relax but his shoulders remain tense when he ducks down to slice through the ties binding Mustang’s feet. “I don’t know what’s going on.” It’s not unusual, of course. Mustang operates at an entirely different level than everyone else, and they each have their own strengths. Subterfuge has never been Ed’s, but with the team at his back he didn’t think it had to be. 

Mustang shakes his head. “No, it’s not a mutiny. If it were, they’d have sent you in guns blazing, armed for bear. And it wouldn’t be here in the middle of the city. They’d get us out of town somewhere we wouldn’t level residential blocks.” He’s looking down contemplatively, rubbing at his wrists where the ropes had cut into skin. 

Ed clicks his tongue in sympathy, and also in frustration. “That’s stupid. If it was a mutiny, why the hell would they tell me about it?”

There’s a beat as they both realise what Ed is saying; what Mustang had assumed. Ed hadn’t even had to think about it; in a mutiny, he’d be on Mustang’s side, without a shadow of doubt. The only thing that could give him pause was the idea that Al might be on the other side, and even then his goal would be to kidnap Al and bring him over. He loved the team, but between Mustang and anyone else, anyone other than Al, the choice would have been simple.

There’s something soft in Mustang’s eyes as he looks at Ed but he doesn’t say anything, for which Ed is grateful. 

He takes a deep breath. “So what’s going on anyway,” he asks, trying for his usual confidence, even though he’s a little shaken at the unthinking decisiveness of his thoughts. 

“It’s not a mutiny, but an intervention, I think.” Mustang doesn’t sound surprised, but he does sound a little irritated. 

Ed is pretty irritated at his own lack of comprehension. “An intervention for _what_ ,” he demands flatly. 

Mustang’s gaze is wary. “I think they’ve noticed that there’s something off between us. Dissent in command teams is hardly a desirable trait.” 

“Wait, hold on, since when the fuck are _we_ a command team?” 

Mustang blinks, like he’s surprised that that’s what Ed is picking on, out of all the things he just said. He shouldn’t worry; Ed’s got a list. “Since forever?” Mustang says, and then corrects himself before Ed can protest. “Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to be glib. The situation has me a little off-balance, you understand.” Boy, does he. “I just meant that we’ve been a command team ever since you rejoined the military. I mean, you’re the next highest ranked member after me—”

“That’s a stupid ass reason for us to be a command team. If anyone, Riza ought to be in the command team, what the _fuck_?” And really, this is news to Ed - why hadn’t anyone told him? 

Mustang shrugs and Ed realises he’d asked his question aloud. “You’re someone they trust. You’re someone I trust. And don’t get me wrong, I trust Riza too, but it’s different. I’d trust you to do _anything_ for the team, laws be damned, and I know they’ve followed me through hell on the Promised Day and everything but…” he trails off lamely.

Ed understands what he means. He knows Al would protect him with his own life, if it came down to it. But Ed wouldn’t want him to. It’s a horrible sort of thought to have, that he’s more willing to sacrifice Mustang’s life than Al’s, but there’s a logic to it. A reason, which he can’t quite articulate. It sounds like he’s that person for Mustang, too. He nods. “I get it. You should have told me, though.” 

Mustang shrugs but there’s something embarrassed in his expression. “I know. I just wasn’t sure how. And then you started avoiding me and I wasn’t sure I should, at all.” Ed stills. “I’m guessing that’s why they’ve locked us in here. Something’s not right between us, Ed, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed.” 

Ed has noticed. 

He’s noticed how, these days, Mustang is careful to stay out of Ed’s reach, when he used to make a point of sitting beside him in the past. Ed has noticed how, when he moves a little too quickly, Mustang flinches away, like he’s afraid he’s going to get hit. Ed hasn’t been able to help but notice how, no matter how hard he tries, Mustang just won’t meet his eyes, looking at a point over his shoulder instead. He’s not particularly gifted when it comes to social interactions, but he’s not an idiot. He can draw a conclusion when he needs to 

“Yeah, I guess I’ve just been drawing it out.” 

Mustang blinks, like he hadn’t expected the admission, which is maybe fair given Ed’s own attitude towards these sorts of conversations in the past. 

“Guess I just didn’t want to hear you ask me to leave, you know?” Ed takes a step backwards, physically distancing himself from Mustang, as if that will make this hurt less. The whole revelation about the command team makes this worse; Ed can’t understand what he’s done to merit losing everything, all of _this_ , when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong. 

“Leave?” Mustang echoes, softly, though Ed can’t read his tone. 

He shrugs. “Leave, quit, be reassigned, I dunno. Though if I have a choice, I’d like to be discharged instead of reassigned, if it’s all the same to you.” 

“Why would you be leaving?” Mustang asks, getting to his feet and taking a step towards Ed. Ed doesn’t look up, instead bracing his feet shoulder-width apart and holding his hands neatly behind his back. After all these years, he’s found that there’s a certain comfort in standing at ease. It doesn’t let him shrug or slouch or slump away. It’s perfectly neutral, the physical equivalent of a blank face.

“It’s pretty obvious that you’re not thrilled to have me here, Mustang. Sir,” he amends, because maybe this is that sort of conversation. He’s not happy but he doesn’t want to make it harder for either of them than it already is. Mustang inhales sharply and Ed closes his eyes, braced.

“I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I?” Mustang muses, and Ed jerks his head up to stare at him. In all his years, he’s never heard Mustang swear, except that one time with Envy. Not even when Hughes was murdered, not even during the fight with Father or Bradley. 

“Sir?” Ed asks, though the word doesn’t roll off his tongue easily. 

Mustang grimaces. “Please, Ed. Please don’t call me that. It doesn’t sound right, coming from you. I think Riza was right. We do need to talk, if things have gotten this bad. I owe you an explanation, at least. If not an apology.” 

Ed doesn’t figure that Mustang owes him shit, but he wants that explanation pretty badly. “Do you want to sit down?” Mustang asks. 

Ed doesn’t. He wants to stand there, get his explanation, and then leave. If he’s lucky, he’ll manage to get out of town before anyone else on the team even realises he’s quit. Al can handle the paperwork and talking for him. 

He nods anyway, and they sit on a dusty, overstuffed nightmare of a communal couch in the back of the room. It’s a dark sage green, and has mysterious white patches on it that Ed doesn’t particularly want to think about. 

“I get the feeling that sitting on the floor might be more sanitary,” Mustang mumbles, and Ed can’t help but quirk his lips slightly. Mustang has always been funny, in a dry sort of way. 

“Afraid of a little tetanus?” Ed asks, sinking back onto the couch as if to demonstrate that he’s not. Ed has been exposed to more rusty metal and dirt than most people can even imagine, what with the automail and the fighting and that time he’d been impaled on iron rebar. Mustang gingerly lowers himself to the couch beside Ed, but the prissiness is mostly pretend. Ed has seen Mustang out in the wild. 

“Let’s recap,” Mustang says, like they’re already half-way through a conversation. “Or maybe, let me give you an executive summary.” Ed rolls his eyes; once a bullshitter, always a bullshitter. “I’d lose a limb, two limbs before I could choose to give you up,” Mustang says, dropping a bombshell like he doesn’t know it’ll decimate Ed. 

Ed, who knows exactly the value of a limb, or two.

Words have never been his strong suit, so he doesn’t speak, stays silent. Mustang takes mercy and continues. “I don’t want you to leave. When I retire, whether it’s by choice or not, I want you to take over the team. If I become Fuhrer, I want you by my side. I don’t want you to quit and I certainly don’t want to reassign you.” 

The world feels like it’s slowed down, like maybe the ground is tilting beneath his feet and gravity isn’t working the way it’s supposed to, because his stomach is slowly levitating into his chest. He still doesn’t say anything.

Mustang rubs his eyes and sighs like he’s exhausted. “That being said, I don’t blame you if you want to leave. I’ve handled this poorly from the start. You think I don’t want you anymore. That I don’t talk to you or reach out to you as much as I used to.” Ed nods, mostly because it’s a response that can be given silently. 

“It’s not because I don’t like you, or because I want you to leave. It’s because I’m a coward. Ed, I’m scared that if I look at you, I’ll never be able to look away again.” 

Ed can’t think. The words don’t make sense, not in that order or in any order he can conceive. He shakes his head, hoping that maybe the movement will rattle them loose in his mind and they’ll fall into place, but to no avail. 

“I’m so sorry,” Mustang says, after a moment, and even his posture is defeated, like maybe the last scrap of hope keeping him upright has just been extinguished. 

“I don’t understand,” Ed says, because he doesn’t. This isn’t making sense. It sounds like Mustang is confessing something, but - but that’s not possible. 

Mustang covers his eyes with one hand and exhales through his nose, lips pressed thin. “Over the past few years, since you started working for me the second time round, I’ve fallen increasingly in love with you.” These words don’t land hard; in fact they brush against Ed’s skin like feathers, like a whisper, something he might have missed if he hadn’t been looking straight at Mustang. “I know it’s inappropriate. I knew you when you were twelve years old. I’m your commanding officer. I’ve told myself that I can’t - that I shouldn’t, a hundred times every day, over and over, but I can’t help it.” 

The confession is wretched. Mustang’s voice is cracking like he’s in pain, like he’s been screaming for something when no one was around to hear it. Ed has felt that way before; futile. Alone.

“Mustang,” he says, and then stops. Now is not the time for formality. “Roy, me too.” He wants to say more, but he can’t. He wants to reach out and touch, and Mustang is so _close_ that he could, he could and no one could stop him, but he _can’t_ , and this too is wretched, it’s too cruel. “Me too,” he repeats lamely, because he doesn’t know what else to say, or how to say it. 

Must-Roy shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand - I’m in love with you, Ed. You can’t love me.” 

A fizzle of fury pops in Ed’s belly. “Why not? Why can’t I love you?” He demands, and he still expects that he’s going to wake up any minute now but even in his dreams he’d never gotten this far. 

“Why would you?” Roy asks, his voice going bitter even as he looks up at Ed with tenderness in his gaze. “It doesn’t make sense.” 

Ed’s going to punch him. He’s going to punch him until he’s on the ground, and then he’s going to kick him a few times, possibly with the automail. But before he does any of that, he’s going to kiss him. 

There’s no time to think, no time to doubt himself. This is what he’s been dreaming of. They’re close enough that it doesn’t take much for him to reach out, to tilt Roy’s face up with a finger under his chin, telegraphing his intent clearly. It’s the easiest thing in the world to lean across the scant inches separating them and press his lips to Roy’s. Nothing in the world could have been simpler. 

He keeps it sweet and chaste, innocent if not for the pent up tension between them. Roy doesn’t move, but when Ed draws back, his hand is clenched around his own thigh. Ed puts his own hand on top of it, slipping his fingers beneath Roy’s to loosen his grip until their fingers can lace together. His hand is trembling, but Ed holds him until it slows down and stops, before Roy finally opens his eyes and looks up at him. 

“You’re a good man,” Ed says, softly. He doesn’t think anyone is standing outside the room to keep an eye on them, but he wouldn’t be surprised. “You’re kind and you’re intelligent and you’re interesting and I trust you with my brother’s life.” That he trusts Roy with his own life doesn’t even need to be said. 

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Roy.” Ten years ago, he thinks this is a sentence that he’d have shouted at Roy, peppered with expletives and possibly explosions. Today, it weighs just as much, spoken softly. “Me too,” he repeats for the third time.

Roy exhales shakily and the fear is slowly fading from his eyes. “There are so many reasons you shouldn’t, Edward. Why _we_ shouldn’t.” He doesn’t elaborate, because Ed already knows what they are. 

“And are those reasons more important than what we could be?” The answer is clear; of course they’re not. “If we're talking about the same thing, I’d rather take a chance on it working out. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t try.”

Roy shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, and Ed doesn’t push. He knows what Roy looks like when he’s thinking. “You could have anyone, Ed. You have your whole life ahead of you.” 

Ed shakes his head. “Nothing is ever so certain, you know this as well as I do. We could die tomorrow. You could be assassinated. I could take a bullet for you, or for Al. No don’t argue, you know I would. I’d rather take happiness, if I can get it, for as long as I can.” 

“Where would you have gone?” Roy asks, after a beat, almost a non-sequitur. “If you leave, where would you go?” 

Ed considers it. It’s not like he’d planned that far in advance, but. “I’d make a trip to Resembool. Visit Winry. Then I’d probably head up to Briggs. It’s still warm enough this time of year to build myself a cabin. I’d write books about alchemy. Publish them through Al and Sheska. Travel.” He shrugs. 

Roy’s face draws tight and his lips are thin with tension. “If we do this, can you promise me something?”

Ed shrugs. “Depends on what it is, Roy. I never write blank cheques, you know.”

“If we do this, and it doesn’t work, will you promise to stay? In Central? Don’t leave. I’m selfish, you see. I need you in so many ways, and if I can’t have you as a partner, I still want you on my side.”

Ed sighs and squeezes Roy’s fingers; their hands are still laced together. “Even in Briggs, I’d still be on your side. But yes, okay. I promise. If this doesn’t work out and you don’t hate my face, I’ll stay.”

Roy finally squeezes his hand in return, before bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of Ed’s palm, pressing it against his cheek like - like it’s something precious. Ed pulls his hand back slightly and Roy lets him go immediately, but Ed doesn’t go far. He just turns his hand to cup Roy’s cheek, bringing his other hand up to hold Roy’s face exactly where he wants it. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, because even though he hadn’t asked the last time, this is different. “Please?” 

“Yes,” Roy whispers, and that’s all he needs. Ed swings his leg across until he’s sitting in the cradle of Roy’s lap, and Roy’s hands are on his hips, as if to hold him in place. It’s the perfect position to kiss Roy, hands flat against Roy’s chest, pouring all his feelings into it, equal parts fury and love. Roy kisses back with equal fervour, sliding his hands up and down Ed’s back until Ed is boneless, little more than a human-shaped puddle in the circle of his arms. 

When he draws back, they’re both breathing hard, and Roy’s lips are swollen and spit-slick, and so damn enticing that it’s all Ed can do to keep from kissing him again. But he’s entirely aware that they’re still on the tetanus couch in Riza’s basement, and that anyone could walk in on them unannounced. So instead, he hugs Roy, pressing his face into the crook of Roy’s neck, memorising his scent and trying to ignore the multitude of uniform pins stabbing his chest. Roy returns the embrace, kissing the side of Ed’s head, twining his fingers in the ends of Ed’s hair. 

“I almost lost you, didn’t I?” he whispers, almost to himself, in a voice full of self-loathing. 

Ed shakes his head but doesn’t pull away. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not the only one to blame, Roy. But it doesn’t matter anymore. We got here in the end.” 

“With a little help from Team Mustang,” Roy laughs, and Ed pretends that he doesn’t hear the wetness behind it. “We’re never going to hear the end of this, are we?” 

Ed shakes his head and kisses Roy’s ear before pulling back to look at him. “Nope. Doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for them. How do you feel about climbing through that side window over there?” He wipes at the dampness beneath Roy’s eyes with his fingertips, but doesn’t comment. 

Roy grins at him, only a shade dimmer than his usual intensity. “I thought my breaking-end-entering days were over, but I should have known. If I know Riza, and I do, she’ll be anticipating that. She’ll either have set Havoc up to watch the back of the building, or she’ll be keeping everyone occupied elsewhere, depending on how pissed she is at me for having to do this.” 

Ed grins back. “She seemed alright when she brought me in. Didn’t look too upset. Wanna make a break for it? It’s either that, or we go up through the roof - your choice.” 

Roy makes a face which makes Ed laugh. “Lead the way, darling. I’ve got your back.” Ed shivers involuntarily, and Roy doesn’t say anything even though Ed knows he’s seen it. 

“My place?” Ed asks, offering a hand for Roy to hold. 

“I’d like that,” Roy replies, and takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> Send love pls <3


End file.
